Dan Enache | + Follow Poet |
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On a starless night, when the sky retreated like an old cloak

On a starless night, when the sky retreated like an old cloak,
I found myself floating on the river of melancholy,
memories intertwined in the fabric of a dream,
a fabric woven by unseen hands,
where the steps of those who climb the mountains of success
are steps of shadows, shadows dancing at the fire of illusions,
hiding their faces under masks of gold and silver,
but their eyes, oh, their eyes,
carried the flames of another world,
flames that consumed everything they touched,
for they were children of the fallen light,
Lucifers who only partially knew their origin.
In a sea of silence, where thoughts swirled
like dried leaves in an autumn whirlwind,
I understood that the path to heights
is paved with lost souls,
souls that sold a part of themselves
for a moment of glory,
for a moment to feel
that the world is theirs,
but in the darkness of night,
when the stars seem to fade one by one,
the truth reveals itself like an open wound,
and the shadows show their true face,
the face of children of chaos,
psychopaths building temples of illusions.
Under the pale moon, silently watching,
I felt the waves of time
crash against the shores of memories,
and each drop of water
carried a fragment of the story of those who ascend,
of those who look into the mirror of success
and see only the reflection of a hidden demon,
a demon that knows how to smile,
but behind that smile
hides a profound pain,
a pain intertwined with desire,
the desire to be more than human,
more than a mere being
wandering through the darkness of destiny.
And on that night, when everything seemed lost,
when the shadows danced around the fire,
I understood that the magic of success
is just another face of melancholy,
another face of a dream that unravels
in the light of the first rays of the sun,
and that, deep in our souls,
we are all children of the same night,
children who look towards the stars
with eyes full of hope,
even when the stars seem to fade,
and we are left with only the illusion,
the illusion of a road leading to heights,
but in fact, it is just another labyrinth
in which we lose ourselves,
seeking the light that will set us free.

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